Its been a long old week since I last blogged. I'm not really sure where the time has gone; I didn't realise it had been a week until yesterday. Time is passing by in a bit of a blur again.

Minor pregnancy ailments are catching up with me; I don't know whether it is the additional emotional strain taking its toll this time or just how things generally are during a second pregnancy anyway. I'm not sleeping very well at all, between the numerous toilet trips through the night, heartburn rearing is ugly head and foul dreams it just all feels very disturbed. Like I can't switch off anymore. The pain in my hips and groin area is worsening and also contributing to the restless nights and causing me problems during the day. Its intermittent, and some days are worse than others, but I've now been referred for physiotherapy.

I can endure all of this; don't get me wrong this is nothing if its what it takes to get me Alexander and he comes home safely.

I guess I'm just feeling more and more vulnerable. Emotionally I'm not feeling particularly strong anymore; this was to be expected and I'm sure is contributing to struggling more physically than I did with Anabelle. Everyone tells me I'm looking well; far healthier than I did when I was pregnant with Anabelle but I'm really starting to feel more exhausted. The bags under my eyes from the broken nights are something else!

Tuesday was particularly stressful.

My routine weekly midwife appointment day. Unusually Jon attended with me and the lady I normally see wasn't there so I saw the stand-in lady. I'd only met her once before; the day before Anabelle died.

It was just as well Jon was there. Tuesday she found a heartbeat on the doppler but spent what felt like an eternity deciding whether the heartbeat she had found was mine or Alexander's. The heartbeat she'd found was on the slow side for a baby and all but matched my own heart rate other than being out by a beat she said.

We felt sick. The look on Jon's face was fear; we'd been here before. The whole mine or baby's heartbeat. Baby's heartbeat slow. I hadn't been concerned before, I'd felt him move, or I thought I'd felt him move; panic obviously descending my mind into chaos.

Anyway, she decided she was happy and sent us on our way.

She may have been happy; we on the other hand started to crumble to bits. The echo's of losing Anabelle had hit us full force and we were right back at a place we were terrified to be.

We phoned the hospital and asked for reassurance monitoring. This in itself was traumatic; the journey there spent imagining the worst, that our boy was struggling or worse he was dead. Then walking through the day assessment unit and through those doors into labour ward. By now I was barely holding it together; scared of what the CTG trace might reveal and walking down that corridor towards the room where Anabelle was born and eventually being put in the room opposite.

Then there my little boy was on the trace. No mistaking it was him. Strong, normal heart-rate and regular. His movement went crazy - I don't think he liked being listened into for so long. Just like the baby books say babies normally behave when monitoring starts. Relieved does not remotely cover it.

The midwives at the hospital said it is very possible that the doppler at my appointment hadn't picked up his heart-rate at all and had only found mine as I had thought. That he could've been in a position, tucked away and out of range.

They were as always gentle with me; I cannot fault my hospital care. Going out of their way to reiterate again that if I am ever worried about anything or more anxious than normal that it is not a problem for me to go up and spend an hour on a trace to be reassured, any time day or night. The Doctor came and said the same.

Its just as well really they are so open to me needing reassurance because something tells me that won't be my last visit being teary and scared.

My next scan is next Wednesday, and it cannot come quickly enough now. I want to see my boy. The hour of doubt on Tuesday went to show than neither Jon nor myself could possibly emotionally survive losing another of our children and just desperately need the next 9 weeks to pass smoothly, safely with smiles at the end.